Tadaima
by aboutsocks
Summary: Post Time-skip. Ichigo is wallowing in self-pity and trying not to remember the events that happened in the Winter War. It's constantly raining in his inner world, and all he needs is his own ray of light. IchiRuki oneshot (though I will probably make this a collection of oneshots).


**AN: Hello, dear reader. This is my first fanfic, so please take it easy on me. My writing in general is badly organized and I didn't proofread as much as I normally would, so I'll apologize in advance for that. I've still got room for improvement, please, by all means, do critique! And review, of course. **

* * *

"Ohayou, Ichigo!"

"Osu, Mizuiro."

_Kurosaki Ichigo. Seventeen years old. Attending Karakura High. Currently a senior. Cannot see spirits. And it's pouring rain._

"IIIIIICHIIIIIIIGOOOOOOOO!" A figure flew towards Ichigo at a speed that Yoruichi would have been proud of.

Ichigo's elbow met the flying figure's face with a resounding _crunch_. "Ohayou, Keigo." Ichigo replied, slightly amused by his friend's dramatic entrance. The trio entered the classroom, and Ichigo exchanged a greeting with Tatsuki. Orihime waved at him wildly, and Ishida pushed his glasses higher up the bridge of his nose.

"It seems that you have made no attempt to tame that flaming orange hair of yours, Kurosaki."

Ichigo glared at the person who just so blatantly insulted his hair. "Uruse! It's not like I can do anything about it, Ishida!"

"Ah! Ochi-sensei is just 'round the corner!" Mizuiro quickly interjected, "We should get to our seats."

The clock ticked by painfully slowly as the morning dragged on. Ishida excused himself twice during class to exterminate hollows. During those times, Ichigo had inwardly cringed––––wasn't he supposed to that? Was it not his own job to protect his friends from the hollows? Besides, Soul Society would probably be pissed at the Quincy. Two years had passed since he had lost his powers, and everyday, he saw his friends do what he was supposed to have done by himself. His sister Karin was working hard to protect him. _Ah_, he mused. _What a turn of events. The roles were reversed, and he truly wasn't living up to his namesake._

Ichigo found himself at the rooftop during lunch break again, carrying a juice box with him. He walked towards the railings and sat down, overlooking the six-lane track beneath him. Absentmindedly, Ichigo poked the straw through the hole and took a sip of his juice. In the seventeen months that Ichigo lived with the absence of his powers, he took several jobs, though he couldn't find one that was worth his time. While he was still spiritually aware, he had learned how to balance his time as a student and as a shinigami––––now, he was using that spare time to study. Ichigo's grades could now rival Uryuu's. In due time, he'd be going off to university, off to start a normal life, that is, getting a job, finding his own apartment, or even starting his own family. Seventeen months ago, even_ thinking_ about having a normal life seemed like an alien idea to him. He had always assumed that he'd be living an abnormal double life.

But no. At this point, he had no reiyoku or reiatsu at all. Never in his entire life had he felt so entirely vulnerable. Even more so than when Byakuya had beaten him without flinching, or when Aizen had tricked the entirety of Soul Society. Back then, he was an arrogant, overconfident teenager who was extremely egoistic.

And funnily enough, he still was.

There was no denying it–––he sorely missed the feeling of his own reiatsu enveloping him, the mighty presence of his Zanpakuto, and, heck, even the annoying voice of his inner hollow. He ached to feel his light soul, brimming with energy, and yelling "GETSUGA TENSHO!" while wiping out hollows to oblivion. He longed to see everyone back in Soul Society, perhaps to tease Renji about his pineapple-like hair, or picking a fight with Ikkaku. And most of all, he missed those amethyst eyes that belonged to a particular raven-haired midget who he longed to see again, the one person who stopped the rain.

Despite that he missed the comfort of being a Shinigami, he couldn't help but feel a little pissed at the Gotei 13. After helping them so much with their battles, they hadn't started to truly pay back. Kurosaki Ichigo had saved Soul Society several times, and they didn't as so much as send a "Thank You" card.

Ichigo's train of thought was derailed when he heard footsteps approaching. Turning his body around, he saw that Chad was coming up the steps. Said man made a beeline towards Ichigo and sat himself down. The two sat together in comfortable silence, save for the occasional sound of Ichigo sipping the juice box dry. Swallowing the last bit of orange juice, Ichigo set the box down and rested his head against the railings. Chad took a glance at the slouching form of Ichigo and set an unreadable expression.

The bell rang, signaling the end of lunch period. Though rather reluctantly, Ichigo stood up and headed downstairs. Chad frowned slightly. It wasn't like Ichigo to be so silent. _Ichigo really need to get a grip and stop wallowing in his own misery_, he thought.

Ichigo ambled homewards, walking parallel to the river where he and Rukia stood right before she departed for Soul Society. He let the memories wash over him, his chest feeling heavy, filled with nostalgia. The gentle breeze tousled his already unruly hair–––how reminiscent of that day. Ichigo, despite himself, almost lifted the scowl and smiled. He turned away and continued to walk home.

Soon enough, Ichigo unlocked the key to home. "Tadaima," he offered weakly. Soon enough, his younger sister Yuzu peered from the kitchen and grinned.

"Okaeri, Onii-chan! It took you a while to get home."

"Hey, Yuzu. Sorry, I walked slowly," Ichigo lamely uttered out.

"Tch. If you have that much time on your hands, you should spend it on picking up some girls." A bored voice came from the couch. Yuzu gasped.

"Karin! Don't say such things like that!"

Ichigo merely sighed an ignored his other sister's remark. "Tell Oto-san that I went up to study, okay?" With that, Ichigo trudged upstairs, nudged his bedroom door open and dropped his bag next to the bed. He grabbed a random textbook from his bag and dedicated a specific portion of time memorizing useless facts that he was bound to forget after taking his exams.

While keeping his guard up, Ichigo silently prepared himself for the said exams. Ichigo had completed worksheet after worksheet, memorized quote after quote, and ingrained historical events into his head. Memorization was no problem for him; he was always a fast learner, and remembering his enemy's movements were always important to––

He grimaced. Every time he thought of something, it always reminded him of his battles as a Shinigami. Was it really going to haunt him that much? Yes, the Winter War had scarred him mentally and physically. He still had scars he couldn't explain to his classmates, and, yes, he had nightmares about his friends–––his nakama–––being killed in front of his eyes in the hands of Aizen. What scareded him the most was that every single time he had this recurring nightmare, the last face to fade away from his dreams belonged to Rukia.

The last bit of sunlight filtered through the windows of the Kurosaki household. Isshin had just come back from the clinic, and he was annoyingly exuberant as usual.

"ICHIGO! HOW ARE YOU DOING, MY DEAR SON? HAVE YOU FOUND A GIRL YET?"

"No." Came the cold reply from Ichigo himself. Tears filled Isshin's eyes as he ran over to the floor-to-ceiling poster of his late wife.

"OH, MASAKI... WHAT COULD HAVE POSSIBLY HAVE DONE WRONG? DID I NOT TEACH HIM ENOUGH SEDUCTION TECHNIQUES? IT SEEMS THAT OUR POOR SON IS GAY–––OOF!"

Ichigo cracked his knuckles and towered over his father's cowering form. Setting his foot right in between his father's legs, he said with absolutely no remorse: "If you dare say another word about me, I will personally kill you."

"But I'm already technically dead!"

Sweat drop.

After that ordeal, the Kurosaki family dinner was amazingly quiet.

Ichigo closed his eyes, sighed, and rubbed his temples as he retreated back into his room. He intended to change into something a bit more comfortable, and thus, reaching out blindly to find his closet door handle. Finally locating one after a couple moments, he slid the closet door open and opened his eyes.

Wrong closet door.

Oh, the sentimentality. He let the familiar scent wash over him. A shudder went through his spine as he closed his eyes once more. The closet was exactly the same how she left it. Ichigo had flat-out refused to remove the futon. Even the pillow and Yuzu's old pajamas were still in there, collecting dust. He had left that half of the closet alone, like a shrine dedicated to someone he loved––

Whoa. No. There is no way in Hueco Mundo, Soul Society, or Earth that Kurosaki Ichigo would love Kuchiki Rukia. No.

But why was he so quick to deny this? And why, how did he even make that connection?

He wavered uncertainly, and closed the closet door.

Turning around, he leaned against the closet and looked out the window. The white moon shone brightly in the night sky, illuminating the streets below. Ichigo marveled at the beauty of it; how it shone so brightly despite that the rest of the sky was dark.

Tch.

It was because the light from the sun was reflected to the moon.

Ichigo grimaced.

_The sun's definitely not shining in Kurosaki Ichigo's world._

Downstairs, the doorbell rang.

However, Ichigo paid no attention to it, as he knew that his sisters would open the door anyway. Sure enough, he heard the door open with a creak, and heard Yuzu's exuberant yell and Karin's surprised gasp. _Probably one of their classmates_, he presumed.

And so he tried to focus on studying instead. The constant chatter from the girls did not cease, and, much to his annoyance, was interfering with his studying. He sighed and closed his textbook. It was getting a bit late anyway, so he decided to call it quits. He turned off his desk light and yawned, pulling back his blanket (which was so lovingly decorated with a blue Quincy cross by none other that Uryuu himeslf), and tucked himself into bed.

Ichigo was half-asleep when Karin shouted: "ICHI-NII!" Ichigo moaned and tried to rub the sleep from his eyes.

"WHAT DO YOU WANT?" He half-groaned in reply.

"SOMEONE IS HERE TO SEE YOU!"

Ichigo sighed. Geez, and he was so relaxed...

Ichigo hesitantly swung his legs from the bed to the ground, not bothering to find his slippers. Yawning and tousling his hair, he slowly and unceremoniously walked down the stairs. Yuzu motioned him towards the couch, where he plopped down and rested his face in his hands. "For the love of God, Yuzu, Karin, just show me who's here so I can sle-"

"Okay, okay, Ichi-nii. No need to get your panties in a twist. You'll find out as soon as you open your eyes, neh?"

Ichigo was in no mood to retort. Like Karin had _so politely_ ordered him to do, he opened his eyes, but was blinded by the bright halogen lights in the living room. Blearily, he made out three figures. One with blonde, borderline orange hair, which he immediately identified as Yuzu. The other two figures both shared a mop of raven hair, one being Karin, and the other...? No. Dad is not that short. He doesn't have long hair. Blinking rapidly, Ichigo finally adjusted to the light.

"Really, bakamono. Have you forgotten about me already? I thought your memory was better than that."

That familiar voice rang through his head and his mind was suddenly sharp with a type of indescribable clarity.

With his mouth slightly apart, Ichigo limply raised his right hand towards her, almost afraid to touch her as he scrutinized her. "Rukia?" His voice cracked. "Is it really you?" He finally wrapped his large hand around her wrist. "Not some sort of sick hallucination of mine?"

A million questions ran through his mind. How long was she going to be staying in the material world? Did Soul Society arrange this? Why did she come back? His eyes were those of disbelief, confusion, awe, and mostly relief. His mind immediately quieted down when he saw Rukia smile softly at him.

"Tadaima," she said in a near whisper.

Without any indecisiveness, Ichigo smiled––––truly smiled––––and replied to her with the most emotions that he could muster. "Okaeri, Rukia."

_Kurosaki Ichigo. Seventeen years old. Attending Karakura High. Currently a senior. Cannot see spirits. The rain has finally ceased. _

* * *

**AN: Whaddaya think? Too rushed? Too OOC? Please tell me! I shiver with anticipation to see what kind of comments you people will whip up.**

**If this gets enough reviews, I will make a collection of IchiRuki oneshots, each over one-thousand words. I promise. (＾▽＾****)**


End file.
